


This Needle and Haystack Life

by Tabithian



Series: Light the Path [39]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-16 01:38:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5808283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim used to think the buddy cop movies Conner and Bart forced him to watch when they found out he was enrolling in the police academy were unrealistic. But then he was partnered with Dick, and. </p><p>Well.</p><p>To be honest, those movies seem a bit tame now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Needle and Haystack Life

**Author's Note:**

> Themandylion requested Dick+Tim and buddy cops for the three sentence meme on Tumblr. (Really, I should know better by now that it's never going to be just three sentences with me. /o\\)
> 
> Non-powers AU, just dorks being dorks and the whatnot.

Tim used to think the buddy cop movies Conner and Bart forced him to watch when they found out he was enrolling in the police academy were unrealistic. But then he was partnered with Dick, and. 

Well.

To be honest, those movies seem a bit tame now.

********

“Are you going to tell me what's up?” Steph asks, perched on the bathroom counter watching him get ready.

Tim glances at her, corner of his mouth pulling up. “You're the mystery novel fan, you tell me what I'm up to.”

Steph's face screws up as she pretends to think about it. “Something stupid?”

That's a given, really. 

Steph laughs. “Just. Be careful, okay?”

“I'm always, careful,” Tim says, somehow managing to keep a straight face.

Steph rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to say something, but they both turn at the sound of the front door opening and the sound of running feet. Moments later Carrie's delighted, “Mom!” reaches them.

“Hey, sweetie,” Steph says, catching Carrie as she jumps for Steph, the cape on her costume flaring out behind her. 

It's Halloween, and in a few hours Steph and Cass are going to take Carrie trick-or-treating, and Tim's going to be making an idiot of himself.

Tim watches Carrie tell Steph about her day, small hands waving and glances at Cass, leaning against the open doorway with a quiet smile on her face.

“Did she give you any trouble?” 

Cass shakes her head. “No more than her mother.”

“Hey!” Steph says, laughing. “No fair you two.”

Tim checks his reflection one last time. His hair's pinned up, delicate wisps falling in his face. Understated makeup, little touch of glitter of jewelry at his throat, earrings Carrie picked out for him for his birthday catching the light. He's wearing the infinity dress Steph and Cass gave him because he's ended up in one too many dresses not to have his own. (Sadly true.)

“Uncle Tim's pretty,” Carrie says, heartfelt and sincere the way only kids can manage that gets a blush out of Tim.

When he looks over at them, all three are grinning at him.

“Thank you, Carrie,” he says.

At least the eight year-old isn't mocking him. 

(Probably.)

********

Steph wasn't wrong, really, when she thought Tim was doing something stupid, just.

This is kind of above and beyond the usual, because there's a very good chance he's going to end up fired, or you know, dead at the end of this. 

He's on leave, some silly little altercation that may or may not have nearly leveled a city block down in the warehouse district. Starting point to something big, but it's not like he has the legal authority to look into things right now, so.

This.

“He _llo,_ beautiful.”

Tim bites back a sigh and levels a distinctly unimpressed look at Dick.

“Really?”

It's not like Dick hasn't seen him dressed up like this before for cases, because _Tim's life_. 

But then again, this is Dick, and he's proven time and time again that he loves to make Tim's life miserable in all the worst ways possible.

Dick grins, and then has the gall to do a little sweeping bow towards the car idling at the curb. 

“I hate you,” Tim mutters, because Dick is still grinning, eyes alight with amusement. “Seriously, Dick.”

Still, Dick seems to have borrowed one of Bruce's flashy little cars for this. 

Small, sporty thing that's this beautiful bright red that shines under the streetlights, rumbling little purr of its engine and Tim thinks he's in love. Runs a hand over the hood as he crosses to the passenger side, but Dick catches his hand, pulls him back.

“You're driving,” he says, ducking his head and giving Tim this little sideways look. “For the Murdoch case.”

Tim's eye twitches at the reminder, and he looks at the car again.

Beautiful machine, the kind that Tim spent a lot of his time chasing down on Gotham's streets when he graduated from the academy. Rich kids taking their parents' cars out for a joyride and Tim looking down at them asking them how fast they thought they were going.

Tim looks at Dick, who has that little apologetic smile on his face he uses when he's trying to get out of trouble, but still thinks everything's hilarious under it all.

“And, you know,” Dick says,eyes sweeping up and down Tim. “For this.”

Tim sighs, turns his hand in Dick's and gives it a quick squeeze. (May or may not use his nails, just a little bit.)

“I still hate you,” Tim says, smiling at the wounded pout that gets him, “but this is a decent start to that apology you owe me.”

********

Dick's cheerfully tipsy act is excuse enough for Tim to drag him off to one of the empty guest rooms at the party they've been invited to.

Tim's all strained smiles and polite excuses as he hauls Dick away from the brights lights and mind-numbing small talk. His stumbling is a little too convincing, as is the way he slurs his responses to concerned waiters who ask if Tim needs help.

“No, it's fine,” Tim says, nails digging into Dick's arm when he starts to get handsy for show. “He's just had a little too much to drink.”

Tim smiles, eyes scanning the crowd before he lowers his voice to say, “Can't hold his liquor, I'm afraid. He's always trying to impress them, I think.”

Dick laughs just a little too loud and wraps Tim in a hug, rubbing that ridiculous beard he'd grown for this farce against Tim's cheek mercilessly.

Tim grits his teeth and wrestles Dick back down, giving the waiter a grateful smile as he backs off with an amused little smirk on his face.

“Rude,” Dick says, just above a whisper, when Tim starts them on their way again. “I so can hold my liquor.”

Tim rolls his eyes, and uses Dick's next stumble as an excuse to knock his head against the wall. 

“Okay, _ow_.”

“Shut up,” Tim grumbles, because his feet are killing him and the falsies are starting to itch. “Let's just find what we came here for and get out.”

Dick makes this little humming noise and shoots Tim this look.

Like he's still surprised Tim just. Goes along with things like this.

And to be fair, it's not like Tim was all that keen on this idea of Dick's, but.

Someone tried to kill them not that long ago – really put some effort into it this time – and there are drugs and weapons flowing into Gotham from somewhere, and really.

He's a police officer, it's not like he could just turn a blind eye to that, now could he?

(If they're lucky, they might even make it through this alive.)

**Author's Note:**

> *hands*


End file.
